Poetrying on A Geek's Life

Becoming...

Mon, 20 Sep 2021 19:01:53 +0000

For The Sunday Muse #178:

In the wisps of the smoke blown in a moment of recalcitrance the man he might yet be lurks. The man he now is and the one he once was yielding in the moment to the future better one. Becoming.

3. Dreaming

Wed, 04 Nov 2020 16:48:29 +0000

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash. For Day 3 of the November Poem A Day Challenge. A poem about dreaming.

And still,
I find myself
reaching for the
solidity of certain
earth, my feet aching
for the cold comfort
of the morning sand,
breaking my free fall.
This is a fevered dream
that returns each night
in which i find that home
though close, disappears
in the dim distance.

Weight

Mon, 10 Aug 2020 17:07:52 +0000

For The Sunday Muse prompt #120, and B who in (wo)manfully wrestling pain to a standstill reminds us to hope again…

** Remember, in the failing light of falling night, when the weight of the world feels like a thing around your neck, that we see you, proud against the night- feet planted firmly in the mushy earth, unflinching in the maelstrom. Like the North Star sometimes hidden, sometimes peering out from behind the clouds, a beacon showing home we see you and believe again.

One

Mon, 03 Aug 2020 10:50:35 +0000

For The Sunday Muse Prompt #119, Artistic Photography Dreamlike Portrait Photography by Damien Casals:

** You and I are becoming one, our unspoken words a voice, mellow in its timbre, its echo light like a soft hand yet firm, kneading out the noise from the silence that we share. In that silence of being and being present, of returning and reforming, of holding out against the pressure of the world, are broken things becoming whole again, each breath a small victory won by persistence, a fresh shoot pushing its way through the things that rage has razed.

Silence, For C...

Fri, 03 Jul 2020 12:15:41 +0000

For C, and the others 2020 has taken. A response to the Poetic Asides prompt, Pandemic. Photo by Marina Reich on Unsplash ** Where the patter of your footsteps once roamed silence reigns, the joy of breath and thought and sonorous song subsumed by the frailty of things.

Death lingered at your door, too long and then snatched you. In the silence that you leave we remember the things we planned tomorrow.

A Novem For Starlight

Sun, 23 Feb 2020 15:53:44 +0000

For the Poetic Aside Prompt #516 and the Novem poetic form. Not strictly interpreted though… \\\* Come bask beneath the starlight. Yield yourself to Time’s

gift of colour splashed across night’s canvas. Come here,

Hear the whisper of nature’s song. Ponder in awe.

Wafting

Mon, 17 Feb 2020 13:24:15 +0000

For The Sunday Muse Prompt #95.

\\\* It thunders, and then it wafts, its wispy tendrils slowly rising like the white smoke of incense from a censer, held aloft by a priest intoning a muttered prayer. Behind, a bridge to the past hides, disappearing, as it were, into the haze of memory; ahead, the future - not yet glimpsed but in the moment frozen - and enjoyed.

Gift

Wed, 05 Feb 2020 11:15:47 +0000

For The Sunday Muse Prompt 93:

\\\* Here, prone beneath the weight of things unseen, the vision has begun to fade, the dream once resplendent in its colour, now faint and grey, Between the leaving and the grieving a messenger appears, a key in its wings, a gift of redemption and rebirth.

Oasis

Wed, 29 Jan 2020 04:41:54 +0000

For The Sunday Muse Prompt #92 and Matthew 11:28-30.

\\\* Beyond the drying and the dying salvation calls; the distant shimmer of light cast by the morning sun a whisper to the weary; Come, draw nigh all ye who are heavy laden, who bear the burden of a common life around their neck. Hope and Haven is the promise, if we dare go through the door into the way.

Abandonment

Wed, 04 Dec 2019 19:11:03 +0000

For The Sunday Muse Prompt #84. Image Source. \\\* Behind the grime, and the ravages of time the remains of living now lie, each layer of dirt a sigh, a dirge for the mystery of abandonment, for how easy it is for things once woven into the fabric of the present to slip beneath the shroud of the memories we lose. Maybe this is what leaving is, things returning to the way they always were.

Gift

Mon, 12 Aug 2019 17:23:32 +0000

Gift, for The Sunday Muse prompt #68. Photography by Edouard Boubat.

\\\* Against the pressure of the sea and the darkness of the depths, the gift has been formed, layer by layer each crystal a prayer offered up for protection from the predation of the boring sponge, the oyster worm and the scurrying crab.

Each day that water has washed over it - wearing tiny paths across its stubborn skin - a battle has been won; of survival, and quiet reassurance. And when someday, bequeathed by the sea, it lies in the hands of a grateful child, its hardy brilliance will yet still speak, more loudly in its silence than all the things it has survived.